


a soft side

by honeyteeth



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Almost Domestic, Blood and Injury, But not quite, Cozy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fainting, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Nosebleed, Rain, Romantic Fluff, Storms, Tenderness, Thunder and Lightning, i mean. zeni makes some cup noodle for lupin but that's about as domestic as it gets, just a warning for all of my other fellow squeamish bastards: lupin gets fucked up, this got longer than expected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23085286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyteeth/pseuds/honeyteeth
Summary: Lupin the Third, certified idiot, finally gets beaten... by a little rain. In other words, he ends up completely conked out on the sidewalk with a bloody nose. Next thing he knows, he's waking up in a hotel that is not his own, getting pretty cozy with the last person he had expected to help him.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 157





	a soft side

**Author's Note:**

> aka lupin gets his shit ROCKED and zeni has 2 nurse him back to health <33

Petrichor hung heavy in the air, the tension of an upcoming storm thickening the atmosphere so much you could almost taste it. Above, dark, billowing clouds swelled to the point of near bursting. Thunder rumbling in the distance, the occasional flash of lightning, a strong breeze picking up stray papers and disturbing every tree in sight-- this was sure to be quite an event. Every man, woman, and child in Edinburgh was instructed to hunker down and just wait it out in the safety of their own homes.

...At least, that’s what the radio was saying. And not everyone listened to the radio. Definitely not Lupin the Third, prince of thieves and bona fide tough guy. What, was a little rain going to stop him dead in his tracks, just as he was getting away?

Certainly not. 

The chase was on, fast-paced and clumsy and winged, as usual. Lupin, running on nothing but his spindly legs and faith, held a heavy, brown, linen sack wedged beneath his armpit. It was absolutely  _ bursting  _ with lavish jewels-- sparkling diamond-encrusted necklaces, rich deep emerald broaches, bewitching rings of gold and silver topped with milky pearls and ocean-blue sapphires and fiery topaz. You name it, he stole it.

It wasn’t a particularly big heist, per se, just a simple Robin Hood deal-- steal from the rich to give to the poor (the poor, being, of course, himself). Swipe some goodies from a stuffy old lady, hit the road, and get some cold hard cash a few days later in a different part of the world. Easy and cheap and something he could do without the aid of his friends, who were long gone, tucked away in different countries with their own fish to fry.

It was a perfect plan, foolproof and completely effortless had it not been for that minor hiccup along the road. A hiccup in the shape of an Edinburgh police car speeding after him at breakneck speeds, sirens wailing and lights flashing a seizure-inducing red and blue, being driven by none other than Lupin’s number one fan. 

“Why didn’t I anticipate this?” Lupin groaned to himself, his legs pumping harder than ever before. The streets of Edinburgh were completely empty, giving him plenty of room to race down every road possible and stretch his long legs, but he found it much harder to sneak away when there wasn’t an ocean of people for Zenigata to swim through in order to catch him. He adjusted the sack in his arms, momentarily satisfied by the jingle of stolen goods. 

“Give it up, Lupin! You’ll get tired soon enough!” Zenigata roared over the megaphone, his free hand balled into a fist and waving around manically as he stuck his upper half out of the driver’s seat window. The man in his passenger seat, a meager looking policeman, probably just a traffic cop, was leaning over to the wheel in a desperate attempt to control it, as the inspector had long since abandoned actually steering the blaring vehicle. There was obvious fear in the poor traffic cop’s eyes, and he was yelling something. A crash of thunder added to the intensity of the moment, making Lupin’s lips curl into that impish grin of his, eyes narrowing playfully. 

He rounded a corner with graceless agility, sliding on his shoes and reeling his arms to catch his balance as the police car wailed a good block behind him. He ran faster, if possible, calves burning, chest heaving, his entire body on fire as he careened down the street. A wave of nervousness washed over him quite suddenly-- just how long could he keep this up? Though he was definitely in shape from all of the running around he did, he was still just a twig of a man up against a car with wheels and an engine and a beyond pissed off Zenigata at the wheel. He certainly didn’t have the stamina to outrun  _ that.  _

And then he saw it. His saving grace. In all of its dark, dank glory, a thin space between two buildings, too small for any car to ever get through, but just about big enough for a person to weasel their way in. And Lupin, being as tiny and slippery as he was, was  _ perfect  _ for weaseling. Running full steam ahead, he latched his hand ‘round a light post at the very last minute, and the rush of wind as he swung his body into the little space using his momentum was enough to make his stomach do flips. At last, he landed with a stumble and trip into the crevice, getting a nice, solid taste of the pavement as he flailed and floundered in some last, meaningless attempts to avoid the fall. Maybe the whole swing-dramatically-on-a-lamp-post idea wasn’t such a wise guy move after all.

Either way, the sound of Zenigata’s yelling along with the cries of the sirens grew faint, and Lupin was satisfied enough with that. He’d lay low for a few more minutes, and then just stroll out, casual as ever, chin tilted up with triumph. Maybe he’d keep one of the rings, just to show it off to good ole’ Pops as a reminder of his failure. 

Lupin began to chuckle, all too pleased with himself, when a deafening crack of thunder followed by blinding lightning shook the heavens, and a fat, cold drop of water landed square on the silly thief’s nose. 

“Well, now, isn’t this unfortunate...” He murmured to nobody in particular, nervously shuffling to get up. It was only now that he noticed the hot, wet trail of blood dripping down his chin. Startled, as he hadn’t felt a thing before, he reached up and gingerly pressed a finger to his Cupid’s bow. When he pulled it back, it was completely slick with crimson. His nose was gushing  _ waterfalls.  _ “...and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse,” he harrumphed, using the back of his sleeve to wipe the slick, hot gore from his face, but it didn’t last long. For where it had been wiped, a fresh wave of blood hurried and replaced it. Karma, he supposed. A second roar of thunder crashed his train of thought. Bits of the pavement were starting to darken, just simple circles turning the grey to a mottled brown, and this was enough to send Lupin into panic mode. With every shop and home boarded up tight in preparation for the storm that was coming, he didn’t have any option but to try and make it back to the dingy little motel he was hiding in, which was quite a ways away after the police chase. And with Pops most likely doing patrols, there was a large chance of being spotted again, and if that happened, Lupin most certainly would not be able to run back to the worn old building he had checked into earlier that week. 

So here he was, still crouching in the crevice, nose gushing blood, rain starting to come down faster and harder than before. It’s not that he couldn’t very easily escape any jail Pops tried to lock him up in, but he wanted to keep those jewels so _ bad!  _ It wouldn’t be fair if he had to throw them away all because of a measly drizzle! He deserved a little break from all those big, difficult heists.

With that, his decision was made. He took a deep breath and readied himself to start running out of his little safe haven like a bat out of hell. This would be easy. It was going to be fine. He was going to be fine. He just had to count down from three and--

Lightning illuminated the entire sky, making the sun seem like a weak little flashlight in comparison, thunder absolutely exploding, roaring in rumbles and loud, sudden cracks. 

And then the rain  _ really  _ came. 

Lupin made a snap decision right then and there that counting to three would have to wait for some other time, and he bolted down the street against the heavy wind and ice-cold rain that rammed into him sideways, chilling him right down to the bone. If his legs weren’t aching from running before, they most definitely were right now, knees feeling watery and a stitch forming in his side. The linen sack was growing uncomfortably heavy, beginning to become waterlogged in addition to carrying all of that heavy jewelry. Said jewelry made Lupin run just a little faster. 

He had better get a  _ lot  _ of money for these stupid fucking gems. 

He couldn’t be  _ that  _ far away from his motel, he told himself desperately, clinging to the linen for dear life. Surely he was close, he just had to be-- how long had he been running? He was making pretty good distance, what with his long legs and whole body absolutely  _ pumped  _ with adrenaline, heart hammering away in his chest, every single bone quaking either with the thrill of running or cold. It was so cold. He had no idea rain could actually be this cold. On the bright side, though, his nose had stopped bleeding a little, and he was relieved when he didn’t reach a hand up to touch it that it wasn’t broken. He had just knocked his head a little too hard.

Rounding a corner, scrambling to keep up, Lupin was  _ positive  _ he was on the right track. It was only a matter of time, now, before he was safe in that uncomfortable little bed, showering with that awful water pressure, all lukewarm and unsatisfying. Right now, it sounded like pure bliss, and nothing could have made him happier. 

The rain almost seemed to intensify, and Lupin cursed himself out loud for being overconfident with this simple larceny. 

And then, right when things couldn’t possibly get  _ any  _ worse, the thief was made painfully aware of the blare of sirens in the distance. Dammit, Pops,  _ now  _ of all times?! 

Lupin picked up the pace, breathing open-mouthed and exhausted. He was starting to get a little dizzy with exertion, starting to feel a little wobbly. Come on, come on, come  _ on,  _ just a tiny bit further, he told himself desperately. He was so close, he was home free if he just managed these next few turns without being spotted. It would be easy, so, so easy, and he could feel his confidence growing with every step. Sure, cars were fast, but his raw, burning determination was much faster. He’d outrun cars before. Outrun Zenigata more times than he could even count. He would make it. He let his eyes close against the rain, just for a moment to try and blink the water out of his vision. 

Lupin barely even had time to register that he had run headfirst into the pole of a street lamp with a solid, stomach-churning  _ THUNK! _

He staggered back, cursing loudly as he cradled his head in drenched, trembling hands. In the collision, the jewelry bag had been flung from his hands and slid, quite unfortunately, into a gutter. He didn’t really notice, though, too occupied with the little spots he was seeing in front of him. He forced his head up, peeling his eyes open, staggering forward. Come on, come on, come  _ on _ , just a bit more. That was it. Just a little bit more. He took a few wobbly steps forward. The wailing of the sirens was getting a little louder-- or was that the ringing in his ears? Despite his eyes being wide open now, he couldn’t see a single thing. When had he fallen over? Or did he actually fall? With his vision gone and the whole world spinning, he wasn’t exactly sure which direction was up and which was down.

And then, everything came in little glimpses. He wasn’t conscious enough for long enough to get a full picture, and the whole time his head was swimming, lolling back on his shoulders. With every blink, a new scene was laid out before him. 

The sound of heavy footsteps spattering the rain-soaked concrete, rough hands on him. He protested a bit, murmuring something about being the great Lupin, prince of thieves, don’t  _ touch  _ me there! All empty threats and boneless leaning into a pair of arms that were scooping him up. He blinked. 

There was a rocking motion, and the rain had stopped. No-- no, it hadn’t stopped, it was pouring down all around him. Perhaps he was in some sort of protective bubble. Or, more logically, beneath an umbrella. Either way, he was pressed tight to something warm and solid and smelling like cheap cologne and petrichor. Those same hands were holding him, cradling him like a baby, soft and delicate as though he were some kind of wounded animal. He blinked again. 

His eyes were being pried open by those same hands, fingers delicate and soft against wet skin. He noticed he was very wet, submerged in water-- but it wasn’t rainwater. Yes, it was still raining, evident from the thunder and lightning and the muffled sound beating against the building he was in, but whatever water he was in was hot and rose-scented and sudsy, all nice and comfortable. He was naked, he noticed mildly, but that didn’t really concern him. Because that gruff voice (oddly familiar) and those fingers still trying to pull his eyes open, cupping his moistened cheeks, pushing back his hair-- oh it relaxed him like nothing else. His eyes rolled back in his head despite his savior’s best efforts and he blinked once more. 

He was clothed again, just a pair of boxers and a big sweater, though neither articles were familiar to him. His eyes weren’t open, so he couldn’t quite see what they looked like, but judging from the size of the items, they most certainly weren’t his. Everything  _ he  _ owned was fitted perfectly to his thin frame. It was nice to be in something dry, though, and even nicer to be in a bed. Or, at least, something with cushions. It was still pouring out, and his entire body felt limp and weak and useless. As a whole, he felt  _ terrible,  _ and he still didn’t even have the vaguest notion as to where the hell he was. He blinked again, and this time, he knew he would be out for quite some time. 

Lupin’s eyes shot open and he wrenched his body forward, gasping as a particularly angry crash of thunder ripped across the sky. He was panting and heaving, pain instantly shooting through his brain and causing the immediate thrum of a migraine. What the hell  _ happened?  _ And, furthermore,  _ where the hell was he!?  _ He looked around, quickly scanning his surroundings. 

He had been wrong about his bed theory earlier-- this was a couch he was laying on. It was a hotel couch, reddish-brown, and he was all cocooned up in a milky white comforter and pillows to match. They had been taken from the bed, which resided over by the corner. Why he hadn’t just been placed on the bed instead of the couch, he didn’t know. The walls around him were a dull beige, and the ugly carpet was in those trademark patterns that looked like they were drawn by a child. There was a boxy television that sat atop an oak dresser, and a big window that stretched from floor to ceiling. Thick, off white curtains were pulled apart to reveal the storm outside. It certainly hadn’t relented. 

Another rather notable thing about the room he was trapped in was the fact that it was empty. Nobody was home, and he entertained the thought that he had successfully made it back to his own little place. Though he knew this couldn’t be true-- the window back at his own hotel room was significantly smaller, though he had a bigger heating system. There was just a little space heater here, not quite doing its job, tucked away in a corner, humming weakly. 

He heard the click of a door, and his heart jumped to his throat. Ah, his captor. Whoever they were, he was sure he didn’t want to deal with them, not in this state. Unsuccessfully, he wrestled with his blanket prison, trying to kick those damned layers off and make a nimble escape, but only managed to tangle himself further. Fuck, this wasn’t good. The door was opening, now, and he swore he could  _ hear  _ his blood rushing. This was it, wasn’t it? Lupin the Third, killed by an unknown kidnapper. 

His logical side, stating that no kidnapper would bathe and cloth him, was completely drowned out by the beating of his heart against his ribs. The door was fully open. This was it. He prepared himself, and then looked the villain straight in the eye, a big, tall, burly man, death in the shape of--

“Lupin! Christ, take it easy, would’ja?!” Zenigata’s voice boomed, a sound to counter the thunder outside. The thief’s jaw  _ dropped,  _ eyes wide, whole body frozen. What the hell was going on. Zenigata rushed to close the door, setting down some paper bags and a dripping wet umbrella on the floor, hanging up his trenchcoat and hat before taking quick strides towards a very starstruck Lupin.

“...Pops?” He asked meekly, not entirely sure whether he was dreaming or not, letting the inspector press a firm hand to his chest to push him back onto the couch, reaching around him to fix the blankets and finally moving to fluff the pillows with careful, deliberate movements. 

“Who else?” Zenigata asked, pressing down on Lupin’s chest once more for good measure. “God, careful, you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.” He scolded, obviously digging into Lupin about his little escape attempt. Fear melted into confusion, and Lupin’s expression was one of genuine puzzlement. Why hadn’t he been arrested yet?

“What…?” Was all he could manage, but he was shushed by the other man (who was, at this point, fussing and clucking over him like a goddamned mother hen).

“You shut up, dumbass. Keep resting, I’m gonna make something for you to eat. Just listen to me for  _ once  _ and take it easy, alright?” Though his tone was in his usual brash loudness and he had peppered in some mild language, the overall message was… surprisingly kind. So, Lupin, still gobsmacked and dumbfounded, did as he was told and snuggled up beneath the blankets. Strange world, strange world.

It was only a matter of minutes before a styrofoam cup of beef-flavored ramen was placed in Lupin’s hands, the warmth very welcome to his freezing cold palms. He just held it for a moment, enjoying the steam curling off the top, letting it hit his face. For just a little bit, he forgot about his current situation, and a small smile touched his lips. However, he was brought back to earth when he felt eyes burning into him, and when he looked at Zenigata, sitting stiffly on the other side of the couch, Lupin’s feet pressed against his side, the inspector’s eyes darted away. 

“And just what are  _ you  _ staring at, Pops?” Lupin deadpanned, taking a fairly large heap of noodles and shoveling them all in his mouth. Instant ramen has never tasted so heavenly. 

“Just making sure you aren’t planning anything over there,” Zenigata snapped back. Lupin noticed he wasn’t eating anything. 

“...Right,” he rolled his eyes, eating another gob of warm, cheap noodles. He took a moment to sip at the broth, much hungrier than he expected. 

“Geez, slow down, you’ll give yourself heartburn,” Zenigata cautioned, holding up his hands in a gesture that meant  _ stop.  _ Lupin shrugged and continued eating at his ravenous pace. He really was famished.

“Why haven’t you arrested me yet?” The thief genuinely asked between chewing. He noted Zenigata’s disgusted face with a twinge of satisfaction. 

“First of all,  _ please  _ close your mouth when you chew, that’s disgusting. Second, it isn’t morally right to cuff a guy who’s passed out cold on the pavement,” he loosely explained, leaning back into the couch cushions. 

“‘Morally right?’” Lupin echoed. “Pops, you’re a cop, you guys don’t care about morals,” he scoffed. 

“While some may not,  _ I  _ definitely do. I don’t care if you’re my worst enemy-- when I see a guy bleedin’ and knocked to hell right on the sidewalk--in the _ rain,  _ no less-- it’s my duty to help him out. I’m lettin’ you off easy this time, Lupin.” 

“Aren’t you hungry, Pops?” Lupin changed the subject, batting away a quite unwelcome feeling in his chest as he realized that Zenigata genuinely did this out of the kindness of his heart. Said feeling wasn’t really new, per se; it happened quite often around his dear old arch-nemesis. But that didn’t mean he liked it. In fact, it made him wish that he  _ had  _ been taken by someone out to get him. 

“Wh--huh?” It took the inspector a moment to register the change of pace. “Oh. No, I ate earlier while you were still knocked out,”

Lupin nodded, finishing his noodles with a slurp. Zenigata winced at the sound, curling his lip. 

“Can’t believe they call you  _ gentleman  _ thief,” he murmured. 

“What was that?” Lupin asked loudly, smacking wet noodles in his mouth on purpose. 

“God, you’re gross,” the inspector rolled his eyes, picking himself up with a huff. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Lupin said suddenly, unsure of why he was so panicked at the notion of Zenigata leaving his side. The taller man turned around, blinking those long-lashed eyes in surprise. 

“Calm down, idiot, I’m just taking a shower. Rinsing the blood and grime offa you isn’t really the cleanest thing in the world, and I gotta say, lugging your waterlogged clothes to the laundry room didn’t exactly leave me smelling like a meadow,” he paused, and suddenly looked very bashful, looking away, tone softening into something that could have actually sounded like his real voice instead of his usual growls and snarls. “unless you want me to stay, which I guess I understand, with your head hurting the way it does and all…” He let his voice trail off before snapping back to his usual sharp self, eyebrows knitting together, frown deep. 

“Ah--” Lupin began, before closing his mouth.  _ Did _ he want Zenigata to stay by his side? Surely not. “--no, no I’m fine. I’m not a  _ baby,  _ Pops,” he chuckled, trying to draw out his regular cheekiness. “I just wanted you to take my cup to the trash for me, you know, since I’m  _ injured  _ and all,” he chuckled, closing his eyes triumphantly. This was sure to cause a reaction out of the inspector, and he would soon be yelling and huffing away, something about how he wasn’t Lupin’s slave, how the young thief was nothing but a bump on a log, a big lazy bastard. But, to his surprise, he just felt the styrofoam container of the Cup Noodles get lifted gingerly from his hand, no complaints whatsoever, not even a little grumble or huff, rising from Pops. 

“Sure thing,” Zenigata said absently, and the quiet sound of his shoes shuffling around behind the couch was enough to freeze Lupin in place. What was he playing at? This nice guy act would most definitely have to end soon enough, there was no way he actually  _ cared  _ about the thief’s well being.

...Unless he did? 

Lupin chewed on the thought even as he heard the roar of water from the shower getting turned on, even after the steam curled beneath the doorframe, smelling like sweetpea and rose, light and delicate and fragrant. 

This was definitely not a scent that Zenigata would usually choose, Lupin noted, remembering all of those times when they were in close quarters and he got a nice big whiff of the sharp cologne the inspector wore, all spice and pine and clove. It was nice, and fit him well. Big, aggressive scents for a big, aggressive guy. On the rare occasion that Lupin managed to swipe the inspector’s hat away from him, he would find himself absently burying his nose into the fabric. This was, of course, something he never chose to think about, and always completely ignored doing it. 

Lupin chalked up the fact that Zenigata wasn’t using his usual “manly” soaps to the fact that he was working with what he had, which was, of course, the sweet fragrances that the hotel provided. Maybe he still had his cologne, but when the shower stopped and a few moments passed, the thief didn’t pick up on the spray of the stuff at all, just the soft padding of bare feet and the click of a door and the overwhelming scent of fresh-cut flowers filling the room. 

When had he started thinking so hard about how ole’ Pops smelled? 

Feeling a little queasy, Lupin sunk back into the cushions, pulling the sheets up to his chest. It was going to be a long day. Of course, day could very well have already passed-- it was still storming outside, and he hadn’t seen a clock in quite a while. 

Lupin closed his eyes as the sound of fabric rustled in the background. He didn’t want to think about what was happening behind him, and  _ certainly  _ didn’t want to accidentally catch a glimpse. 

Well, maybe he did, just a little bit, but he would never admit that. 

The next thing he knew, Lupin found himself waking up to the feeling of the couch sagging on the other end, though he didn’t remember falling asleep. His eyelids fluttered open, and he shifted a little, just barely sitting up. Zenigata, looked up at him from where he sat near Lupin’s feet, worry crossing his expression as his attention was ripped away from the book in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he began, and Lupin couldn’t help how his eyes widened, lips parting slightly, basically his entire body showing complete, utter surprise. This was  _ not  _ a side of Pops he was used to. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Zenigata frowned, cocking his head to the side in an almost puppydog like manner, eyes soft, mouth in a concerned little frown instead of his usual scowl. His shoulders, clad with a big, brown, soft knit sweater, were fully relaxed as he leaned against the back of the couch. He smelled nice, and he was warm. 

“N-no, no you’re fine,” Lupin managed to choke out, trying not to stare as Zenigata gave him the slightest touch of a smile and put a dog ear fold on the page he was on. The thieve’s eyes trailed to the inspector’s fingers as they carefully, gently creased the paper, smoothing it over with the swipe of a thumb, closing the book softly, and placing it to the floor. 

“Good, good. You want anything?” He asked, returning to his relaxed pose after setting his book down. Lupin gawked. Zenigata looked a little uncomfortable. “Come on, at least nod your head or something. Why are you staring? You’re makin’ me nervous,” 

“You’re so quiet,” Lupin blurted before he could stop himself. He was actually, truly shocked by the softness of Zenigata’s voice, so used to him absolutely screaming his head off about something or another that when he spoke--  _ really,  _ actually spoke-- his voice soft and quiet and smooth as honey but all at the same time a little gruff, a little husky, Lupin was completely floored. “I didn’t know your voice could be so soft,” he yammered on, not really able to control his mouth. 

For a moment, Zenigata looked shocked. He  _ really  _ didn’t know how to register that. He had this adorable expression of surprise on his face (adorable?  _ Adorable?!  _ Lupin couldn’t possibly think that! No way!), and the apples of his cheeks flushed a soft red. He just stared at Lupin for a moment, and Lupin stared right back. 

Without warning, Zenigata burst out laughing. 

_ Laughing!  _

His shoulder shook as his head rolled to one side, eyes close sweetly, his laugh rumbly and true. It wasn’t mocking or frantic or angry, it was just-- well, it was just plain laughter. 

Now, if Zenigata’s regular speaking voice wasn’t enough to completely astound Lupin (it was), his laugh sent the poor thief reeling. 

“God, you’re amazed at the stupidest things,” he mused sweetly, his laughter fading away into a gentle hum. Lupin tried to say something, but every single attempt drowned in his throat. He swallowed hard, gulping all of his unspoken sentences deep down. “surprise surprise. I’m not always yelling. Maybe it seems like that to you, but that’s just because you’re a conniving little rat and it’s my job to catch you,” he chuckled, sighing happily and wiping a pretend tear away from his eye. 

“I’m not  _ amazed  _ at your voice, Pops, I just--!” Lupin tried to defend himself but found that he was completely and utterly useless against the inspector’s kind eyes and sweet smile. “Well, you know,” he settled for that, crossing his arms and pouting. 

“You’re nothing but a big baby, Lupin,” Zenigata hummed, leaning back a little further into the cushions. This, the thief noticed, was said with a genial little smile. “I can start yelling at you again if that’s what’d make you more comfortable,” He joked, reaching a hand over and pinching the top of Lupin’s shin (or what he assumed to be so; there was still a blanket in the way) softly, a friendly gesture, done so easily and casually that Lupin could easily see him doing it to any of his friends. He did tend to talk with his hands, and the thief didn’t put it past him to be on the touchy side as well. He  _ was  _ built like a fucking bear, so it only made sense that, outside of gnashing teeth and angry claws, he was just a big, refrigerator-shaped, snuggly man. 

“No, no, I like your voice,” Lupin found himself saying before he could stop. Shit. Oops. It was now Zenigata’s turn to look shocked. Oh well, if Lupin was going to dig himself a grave, it was better to make it deep instead of shallow. “it’s really calming, actually, I didn’t… didn’t know that you were capable of that, I guess,” he swallowed. “I think it’s really nice.” 

“Well uh-- thanks, I suppose,” he spoke softly, shyly turning his head away and scratching at the back of his neck, which was darkening a few shades. “that’s. Strange to hear from you, I’ll admit… But, nevertheless, it’s still nice to hear,” the faintest trace of a smile could be detected in his softened voice. Lupin hummed, nodding in reply. 

He was feeling uncharacteristically shy around Zenigata. He knew he shouldn’t. But his heart was fluttering around in his chest, and this was something he just had to live with, now. At least until the storm was over, and he would either be kicked out or slip away undetected, putting a nice solid distance between himself and Zenigata. It hurt, almost, to think that it would probably be quite a while before they saw one another again. Sure, it would come soon enough; the silly old inspector was drawn to Lupin like a moth to a flame, and Lupin knew this. But there would still be a long stretch of time where the thief would be left alone, at least for a little while Zenigata searched for him, and he knew that he would have far too much space to think about how he felt around his rival. 

_ Rival,  _ he thought, with a bit of humor. Would a rival be sitting on the far end of the couch you were on, your feet practically beneath him as the pair of you sat talking quietly and shyly, poking and pinching and cracking jokes as a storm crashed down on the little hotel you were both stuck in? Probably not. 

Lupin’s train of thought derailed when Zenigata got up once again, stretching his back a little.

“Where are--?” Lupin began but was quickly cut off. 

“Calm down, needy ass. I’m just getting the TV remote, I wanna see if there are any movies on,” Zenigata assured him, and sure enough, he sat right back down with the little black controller in his hand. He did something a little different this time, though; perhaps emboldened by Lupin’s vulnerable state, or just comfortable, he gently lifted the thief’s legs with one big hand. And then, sitting down, he let Lupin stretch out to his full, spindly length, legs on Zenigata’s lap, with the inspector’s hand resting softly on his ankle as he began to flip through channels. “Comfy?” He asked absently, eyes on the screen. “I can shift a little if your legs are elevated weirdly. Do you want another blanket to cover your feet more? It’s chilly in here, that space heater isn’t doing its job, huh?” 

Lupin, seeing stars, surprised and ashamed at how weak he was rendered after such a  _ simple thing,  _ shook his head. “I’m. I’m fine, thanks, Pops,” he breathed weakly, hoping to god that Zenigata didn’t turn and notice how flushed his cheeks were. He wished the lights were off. He also wished that Zenigata was closer, or that he was sitting up so that he could sneakily lean his head into that broad, warm shoulder and play it off as falling asleep, all sick and weak and possibly concussed from his little incident earlier.

“Hm, good. You sure you’re comfortable?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Are you?” 

“Mmhm, very,” Zenigata stopped fiddling with the remote to toss Lupin a grade-A smile, all sugar-spun sweetness, giving the thief cavities. It made Lupin’s insides go gooey and his head fuzzy. He tried to return the smile, but only managed a guilty little  _ heh _ as he looked away, bashful and feeling very, very small. How the hell was he going to survive tonight if Pops was being such a good sport? And with his hand on the thief’s ankle, heavy and relaxed and broad and warm, how was poor Lupin supposed to focus on anything else?! 

He thought for  _ sure  _ he had it bad with Fujiko. All it took was a seductive little touch, a wink, and a little kiss to the cheek for Lupin to become putty in her goddamned hands. But if Zenigata just  _ looked  _ at him the right way, the poor bastard was already a babbling mess! Lupin didn’t want to imagine the power the good inspector had if he were to flirt or smooch as Fujiko did. That’d probably be the end of the bloodline. Lupin would just die right then and there. Simple as that. 

With his deathbed in mind, Lupin did everything he could to distract from his enemy’s kindness. Counted backward from one hundred, thought of all the things he could steal in the apartment (that one didn’t work so well. His list read: Zenigata’s heart, Zenigata’s heart, Zenigata’s heart), thought of Fujiko and Jigen and Goemon and tried to guess what they were up to. Which didn’t last long-- good ole’ Fujicakes was probably seducing some old man out of every penny he owned, Jigen was living it up somewhere, drinking to his heart’s content, and the samurai Goemon was almost definitely meditating under a waterfall. Silently, he cursed himself for knowing his friends too well. 

“What do you think, will this do?” Zenigata’s newfound gentle tone pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“What?” Lupin asked dumbly. 

“This show. It’s a western, I think, something about cowboys and horses and lassos and guns and big open skies, blah blah blah, so on and so forth. What do ya think?” He asked without turning to Lupin.

“Er,” he fumbled. “yeah, sure, westerns are nice,” 

“Great. I’m turning off the light if you’re okay with that,” 

_ Please!  _ “Sure, Pops, go right ahead,” Lupin managed to regain a smidgen of his usual confidence, happy to know that his expressions of absolute wonder at the inspector’s soft side would be at least a little hidden. 

Outside, the storm did not relent, not even a little bit. Zenigata gently removed Lupin’s legs from his own, stood up, and placed them back on the couch. After a moment or two, the light was flicked off. 

Happy to get back to semi-cuddling with Zeni, now in the dark so that all of his expressions could be unnoticeable, Lupin prepared his legs to be moved again. Maybe, this time, Pops would misstep since it was so dark, and sit juuuuust a little bit closer. Lupin allowed himself to indulge in this thought, a slight smile touching his lips as he continued to wait for his couch buddy to return. 

However, the sound of bedsprings caused him to sit up, and he felt a stupid little ache in his chest when Zenigata reclined on the bare hotel bed. There was nothing but one small pillow and a thin sheet, yet he propped his hands behind his head, wriggled under the sheet and looked like he was trying to get cozy. 

“Pops?” Lupin asked, voice very little, almost hoping he hadn’t been heard. 

He  _ had _ been heard. 

“Hm?” He popped his head up. “Oh, yeah, just thought you’d want some more room on that stuffy little couch. I don’t wanna put you in a bed, can’t have you rolling around and risking another injury. That spot on your head is still very tender, you know,” Zenigata explained matter of factly. In the yellow light of the TV, the main character had just jumped onto a train, whooping and hollering the whole time. It would have been loud, but the volume was low, the brightness on the screen turned down; this movie was clearly not something the inspector had planned on staying awake for. 

“Oh,” was all Lupin could manage, and he laid back down. 

The room was very cold, the movie only halfway over, and neither of the two men had fallen asleep yet. Lupin was still thinking of how he could get closer, and Zenigata was simply cold, what with his measly sheet and singular pillow. 

Ah. Bingo. 

Quietly, cautiously, Lupin lifted his upper body, slinging his arm over the back of the couch. 

“Hey,” he whispered,  _ just  _ in case the inspector was sleeping. He wasn’t and sat up immediately. 

“Hey, you,” (“Hey, you”!!!! God!!! Lupin was fucking  _ floored!!! _ ) he replied, just as soft. 

“I’m gettin’ a little chilly over here, Pops,” Lupin began. It wasn’t  _ all  _ wrong-- he was definitely a little cold. The shitty space heater was even more defenseless in the night, cold air seeping in through the window-- and with the rain pouring down, it made for an icy experience. 

Lupin could just  _ taste  _ the weariness in the inspector’s voice. “...Well, I suppose you can have my blanket,” he said reluctantly, standing, bunching up his measly little sheet. Quiet shuffling, a trip here and there. And then, Zenigata’s shadow loomed over Lupin, and he was laying the thin, useless sheet over the thief. “I’m not sure if it’ll do much, but hopefully--” 

He wasn’t able to finish that thought, for Lupin had reached a hand up and gripped the sleeve of his sweater. 

“Lupin?” Zenigata asked softly. He was tense. 

“Stay,” the thief said simply, eyes wide, mouth small. He had no idea what the fuck he was doing. “please? I’m sure you’re cold, too, that lousy bed is right next to the window,” his hand trembled. “and, uh, that little sheet you had couldn’t possibly be keeping you warm,” seriously, what was he playing at?! “but I have a lot of blankets, and plus isn’t uh-- well, isn’t body heat supposed to be really good? For when you’re--ah, when you’re cold?”

Zenigata blinked. The skin beneath his sweater seemed to be warmer to the touch, and he opened and closed his mouth several times. Lupin worried his lower lip awkwardly, waiting to laugh it off as some sort of joke-- but no such luck. 

“You’ll have to be mostly on top of me, you know,” Zenigata finally said. Huh? “the couch is really small, and can’t fit the two of us side by side unless you want to spoon at a ninety-degree angle,” he moved his hands while he talked. Lupin almost smiled. He knew the inspector was a hand-talker. The thief’s hand was still gently clinging to Zenigata’s sleeve. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with spooning, I’m a pretty cuddly sleeper, I’m not ashamed to say, but getting  _ that  _ close would just be stuffy and uncomfortable, and one of us would wake up on the floor,” he explained meekly. He was getting pretty flustered, which was satisfying for Lupin to see after he had stumbled and tripped around his own words so much tonight. “I could also be on top of you, but I’m obviously much larger than you, plus you’re a little banged up, and I wouldn’t wanna hurt y-- Lupin?” Zenigata shut up for a moment as the thief lifted his upper half, scooting carefully off of the couch, using the cushion for support as he lifted himself. 

Neither of them moved for a little while. 

“You know,” Zenigata began clumsily. “you. Um. You should be in bed.”

“You’re the one who said I had to lay on you,” Lupin said quite simply. 

“...I guess I am,” the inspector rubbed the back of his neck, looking away shyly, awkwardly flopping onto the couch. He kicked the blankets around a little, pulling them just a little bit over his legs, leaving plenty of room for Lupin to snuggle up beneath them as well. He paused, very stiffly opening his arms and staring at the thief owlishly. 

Lupin stared right back, not really sure what to do. He didn’t think ahead this far. His brain felt foggy. He was going to pass out for sure, or at least fall over-- his knees were so wobbly it felt like a magnitude 7.9 earthquake was attacking his body.

“Will you tell me if I’m too heavy?” He asked, placing a hand at either side of Zenigata’s face, who was in the middle of nodding as long leg swung over a hip so that Lupin was partially straddling the good inspector. He made the final move, hoisting his other leg onto the couch. Pressing his side to the back cushions, he sunk his knee into the space between the body below him and the pillows, slinging his other leg comfortably over Zenigata’s middle. His arms stretched out, almost snaking dangerously around the bigger man’s neck, but instead opting to draw back close to Lupin and fall crossed on the inspector’s chest below Lupin’s cheek. 

While all of this was happening, Zenigata’s hands were raised, stiff and nervous and trembling slightly. Cautiously, slowly, he moved to slide the blanket up both of their bodies, and then… his arms just stiffened at his sides. 

Lupin closed his eyes, comfortable and relaxed, but couldn’t really sleep. Poor Zenigata was absolutely rigid beneath him. 

“Do you want me to get off?” Lupin whispered, propping his chin on his hands as they continued to lay flat over the inspector’s chest. 

“No, no, this is…” The words died in Zenigata’s throat, which he promptly cleared. “Well I just-- you see, I--” 

“Spit it out,” the thief teased. His confidence was certainly back. 

“I don’t know where to place my hands,” Zenigata admitted, looking at Lupin beneath shy lashes. The movie was almost over in the background. 

“Anywhere you want, I don’t mind,” Lupin hummed his reply. 

“But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” 

“Pops, I’m literally laying on top of you. I think we’re pretty well acquainted by now,”

“Well, yes, but that’s _different._ Laying on me is your choice-- where I put my hands is _my choice.”_ He blinked, looking away. “Completely different.” He repeated.

Oh, god, he was so cute. Lupin swallowed hard, blushing deep rose on the apples of his cheeks. 

Slowly, he slid his hands from beneath his chin, placing them on Zenigata’s shoulders. Looking away bashfully, he traced a feather-light touch to the inspector’s hands, warm and large and calloused from years of rough work. He wrapped his own nimble fingers around thick ones, before sliding his palm down to the wrists. Gingerly, as to not spook the poor guy too much, he directed one, trembling hand to the small of his back. The other, he lifted a little further, setting it down right on his head. He moved his own hands back to rest beneath his cheek.

“Right about there is good,” he managed, surprised at his own actions. Sure, he could be bold and forward, but this was with Zenigata, not some girl who he thought was cute! Beneath him, the inspector nodded, relaxing just a little bit. 

“Your hair is soft,” he heard Zenigata whisper after a moment or two of strangled silence. The tension in the air melted.

“Didn’t you wash it earlier along with the rest of me?” 

“I mean, yeah, figured it was common courtesy. If you’re gonna strip a man and slosh some water on him while he’s having somewhat of a concussion, you might as well do a good job of it,” he was looking away.

“Then that’s probably why it’s so soft.” Lupin smiled. He absolutely melted when his smile was returned, the hand on his back holding him just a bit tighter. It felt nice. Right, even, if he dared to entertain the notion of  _ any  _ of this feeling right. 

The fact of the matter was that it  _ did  _ all feel right. Like he belonged in Zenigata’s arms. Like this was something they should have been doing years ago. Had they really been playing cat and mouse all this time when they were missing out on whatever the hell was going on  _ right now?  _ When they could be gazing sweetly at one another, having playful conversations, snuggled up beneath some blankets on a teeny tiny couch? 

Suddenly, Zenigata took a deep, full breath, followed by a sharp, long exhale, his chest rising and falling quite drastically, Lupin being carried right along. He laughed. 

“What the fuck was that, Pops?” Lupin giggled, delighted at the movement. 

“Sorry, just had to take a moment,” Zenigata chuckled back. It was warm and soft and sweet. 

“What for? Are you completely swept away by me?” Lupin pretended to bat the long eyelashes that he didn’t have. 

“No, you idiot. When you got on my chest you knocked the wind outta me! I’ve been trying to get it back for a while now but I didn’t want  _ that  _ to happen!” The inspector laughed his defensive explanation. “Too late, I guess.”

“Too late,” Lupin parroted, agreeing, gazing with affection at the man below him. “sorry for taking your breath away, guess I just have that effect on some people,” 

“Oh, shut your yap, you cocky little bastard,” Zenigata’s fingers were carding through Lupin’s hair now. The thief closed his eyes and smiled, feeling punch-drunk and floaty. The butterflies in his tummy threatened to take flight and drag him right along. 

“Hey, that feels nice,” 

“Hmm? Oh, good, I guess. Originally, I was just gonna crush that thick skull of yours, but I suppose this’ll do just fine,” 

“Hey! You were being so nice earlier,” Lupin pouted. Zenigata laughed again, and the thief bobbed up and down with his chest. It was  _ delightful.  _

“Because you were injured!” 

“I still am!”

“Clearly you’re aren’t if we’re having this argument!” 

Both of them were grinning. 

“Well, what if I went back to fainting and whimpering, eh?” 

“ _ Maybe  _ I’d care a little more about you.  _ Maybe,”  _

“No fair! Pops, you sure are a mean one,” Lupin hadn’t noticed how he had scooted up (probably helped by Zenigata’s laughter, the rise and fall of his chest shifting the thief ever so slightly) until he realized that the inspector had a few freckles on his nose. They were incredibly cute. 

“Oh, shut up, at least I’m not a known felon,” Zenigata laughed. Lupin was laughing, too. It was soft and quiet and for a moment, it felt like nobody else in the entire world existed but the two of them, safe from the storm in their blankets and each other’s arms.

Gingerly, Lupin rested his cheek against the inspector’s chest, closing his eyes, laughter dying down into a hum. Zenigata’s arm was now wrapped around his waist while his free hand continued to play with his hair. 

A few moments passed, and it was just silence. Lupin had grown bold and snaked his own arms up around Zenigata’s neck, who didn't seem to mind one bit. In fact, if possible, he pulled the smaller man just a little closer, arm ‘round his waist tightening, thumb drawing circles in his back. 

Although he was silent, Lupin’s mind was racing and screaming a million miles a second. He had no way of knowing he would end up in this particular situation, and he always imagined that if he were to ever cuddle up to another man it’d be Jigen or even Goemon. Not that he hadn’t before. But still. He never expected to get  _ this  _ comfortable with somebody like Pops. 

With a small twinge of pain, he wondered whether this was all just an elaborate plan that the inspector thought up to capture him. His eyes were opened, brow furrowed as he worried at his lower lip. What did he care if it was just a ruse to get him behind bars? The two had been playing these games ever since Zenigata was on Lupin’s case, and it wasn’t like this really  _ changed  _ anything. 

...But still.

It hurt, what with the way Pops was being so  _ soft  _ and so  _ gentle,  _ showing a side of himself, a side of vulnerability that Lupin hadn’t ever seen before. It hurt to think that none of it was real. 

Funny, wasn’t it? How the charming, womanizing thief could fall for the man who had devoted his life to locking him up. Funny, funny, funny. What a bitter joke this was.

Lupin closed his eyes, pressing himself closer. Zenigata rumbled softly beneath him, a gentle reminder of his hold on the thief. It was oddly protective-- not in a possessive, controlling way, but in a way that said  _ don’t worry, I’m here, you’re safe with me. _

After focusing for a minute, he could hear the tell-tale  _ ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump  _ of Pops’ heart, quiet but very real and very there. It was a nice sound, soothing in its simplicity. Lupin smiled at the thrum of it. How strange that something so human could be so incredibly gorgeous, otherworldly, unbelievable. Something as simple as a heartbeat had the power to double anybody over. It was a strangely intimate thing to hear.

Absentmindedly, Lupin dragged his thumb along Zenigata’s neck, a small gesture meant to return the comfort of having his hair played with. Just a little twitch to show his appreciation, really, he wasn’t quite expecting much out of it. He didn’t even think it’d go noticed, he just felt like it was the right thing to do. 

And for a moment, it really did seem like the inspector was either ignoring it or didn’t know about it. 

Suddenly, Zenigata’s heart was thumping a little faster in his chest. Lupin pressed his ear against the other’s body to heart it, to make sure he was right about this, that he wasn’t just imagining things.

He definitely wasn’t imagining. 

He tried again, adding a little more pressure this time, and was rewarded with the solid  _ ba-thump, ba-thump, ba-thump  _ speeding up. Lupin picked up his head, eyes sparkling, a smile stretching across his lips, soft and sweet and real. 

Noticing the loss of weight from his chest, Zenigata opened his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked with an adorable, owlish expression. “Are you alright?” 

“Pops, your heart,” Lupin giggled. His voice was quiet, only loud enough so that the two of them could hear it. 

“What about it? It’s still ticking around in there, ain’t it?” Eyebrow arched, mouth drawing into a straight line, the inspector cocked his head at the man above him. 

“It’s racing,” 

“Is it? You’re lying, you’re not nearly cute enough to get my heart goin’,” Zenigata deadpanned. 

Even Lupin was surprised about what he himself did next. Maybe he had hit his head harder than he initially thought, for gingerly, slowly, he reached his hand up, wrapping his fingers carefully around Zenigata’s wrist, and brought it close to his face. What the fuck was he thinking?  _ Was  _ he even thinking? 

“Lemme check your pulse for you then, inspector,” he hummed. 

Definitely not thinking.

He drew the inspector’s hand close, and, tilting his head just a little to the side, pressed his lips against the soft flesh of Zenigata’s wrist. He let them linger there, humming into the warm skin, relishing in the way that he  _ could,  _ in fact, feel the other’s heartbeat with his mouth. And it definitely was sped up, so fast that he wondered if maybe Zenigata had secretly run a mile or two while they were lying on the couch together. 

When he drew away, Zenigata was staring at him in a way that he had never been stared at before. His big, warm hand reached just a tad closer and cupped Lupin’s cheek, who swallowed hard. His hand was still holding the other’s wrist. He leaned into the touch. 

“Lupin.” The inspector said simply. And the way he said it was brimming with affection, with something sweet and soft and genuine. 

For a moment, all was still. They were just staring, eyes locked, neither of them breathing. Time slowed to a halt, even the rain outside was still. Ten years had passed. One hundred. One thousand. One million. Eons and eons passed, and nothing mattered to Lupin but gazing into those eyes he knew so well.

“I think I’m about to kiss you,” was all the lovesick little thief could manage. “I don’t even know if I’m joking. Zenigata, I’m going to kiss you,” 

It was strange saying “Zenigata” and not “Pops” or “inspector” or “pain in the ass,” but one couldn’t really focus on how strange a name sounded on the lips when the lips were already occupied with something else. 

Lupin didn’t remember closing the gap between them, but he knew he was the one who did it. Because for a moment, there was no response. Zenigata’s hands awkwardly fumbled around his waist, not quite sure where to land as the thief tilted his head just so as to not knock their noses together and pressed his mouth to the other’s. And for just a small moment, Lupin was concerned he had read the signals all wrong, that he was going to be shoved off, that he was going to be cuffed and hauled out to the big house for good, all because he had fallen for the wrong person. 

But he was wrong, and soon, one of Zenigata’s hands was pressed firmly against his neck, the other tight on his back, fingers curling into the fabric of Lupin’s (though, in reality, it was the inspector’s) sweater. And he was kissing back. Passionate and true, making the sweetest little humming sounds whenever Lupin would press harder or accidentally scrape his teeth against the inspector’s bottom lip. 

When they both had to pull away, remembering that oxygen was essential to life, there were stars in their eyes.

Lupin felt like the entire universe was imploding in his chest, staring at Zenigata like he hung the goddamned moon. He was panting slightly, out of breath from the kissing and the adrenaline of it all. 

“Lupin, I--” Zenigata began, lips all swollen and red, cheeks hot, eyes gleaming. But he wasn’t able to finish, for the thief leaned in once more and began to lay a barrage of kisses on the other, peppering his cheeks and nose and forehead, laughing loudly, squeezing his arms around his neck.

“You!” Smooch. “Are!” Smooch. “So!” Smooch. “Cute!” Smooch.

“Cut that out, I agreed to  _ one  _ little kiss!” Zenigata protested, but he was laughing, hugging Lupin tightly. He managed to cease the attack on his face by catching the smaller man’s lips with his own, smiling into a second, long kiss. 

By the end of it, they were both laughing against one another’s mouths, not even kissing anymore. Foreheads knocking together, chest pressed against chest, hearts beating in sync. Lupin lay a few smooches to the inspector’s jaw, before nuzzling his head underneath the other’s chin, sighing happily when he felt his waist get squeezed. 

“I’m the biggest fool on the planet,” Zenigata sighed beneath him. 

“And what about me?” Lupin asked.

“You’re pretty stupid, too,” he kissed the top of the thief’s head. “an absolute dumbass.”

Lupin frowned softly at this. He  _ was  _ stupid. He really, really was. 

“You’re right. I am. This was wrong,” he murmured suddenly. Zenigata tensed slightly at the shift in tone. “I’m supposed to be a thief. The best around, the creme de la creme, head of the pack. I’ve picked every lock imaginable, stolen thousands of valuables. I’ve never truly been caught, I only let myself get arrested sometimes, and that’s all part of a bigger plan. I have guns and grenades and even damn  _ aircraft,  _ every weapon, and type of protection imaginable…”

He nuzzled a little closer. 

“...And yet here I am, completely and utterly defenseless against the one guy I should be most cautious around. I don’t even care if you cuff me here and now, I know you were planning to in the first place. I just can’t believe I fell for such a simple trap.” 

Without warning, he was being lifted with Zenigata, who had sat bolt upright. He awkwardly fell back against the inspector’s raised knees, his own legs hooked on the other’s hips. His face was being held firmly but carefully. 

“You really  _ are  _ an idiot, Lupin, I can’t believe you’d think I’d pull such a cheap trick!” Zenigata scolded, but his voice did not raise. It was still quiet, still gentle, still sweet. “If  _ you _ feel like that _ ,  _ try to imagine how  _ I  _ feel! Being dumb enough to fall for the guy I’m supposed to arrest! Do you even realize how exhausting it is, having to chase after a guy you’ve loved for  _ years,  _ and then have him kiss you? I’m supposed to hate you, idiot, but here I am, vulnerable as ever.” He smiled, pressing his forehead to Lupin’s. “What I’m  _ trying  _ to say is that we’re in the same boat, I guess. I’m not going to trick you, not with this. Because it means something to me, something that I can only hope you’d understand. 

“Pops, I--” he swallowed hard. Zenigata drew his head back, smiling. 

“I’m afraid there’s no smart-talking your way out of this one, Lupin. I’m being honest. I love you, really, this isn’t a joke or a trap or anything. In fact, I had no intention of telling you that tonight--or ever, really-- but I suppose that’s just how the cookie crumbles.” 

“You know I love you too, right? I mean, I already kinda admitted that but… Just in case?” The thief’s voice was small and meek. 

“I think so,” Zenigata admitted. He huffed out a little chuckle. “Lupin, don’t look at me with those puppydog eyes, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he brought the thief close to his chest, hugging him tightly. “I’ve got you.” 

“Promise?” Lupin asked, only half-joking. He was smiling, nuzzling his nose into the nape of the inspector’s neck. 

“Promise.” 

Outside, the storm raged on. And it would continue to do so for another full day, little did the odd pair inside of a shitty Edinburgh hotel know. When the storm  _ did  _ finally pass, Lupin would sneak out, leaving a kiss and a note for the sleeping inspector to find. And then he would rob a bank, and Zenigata would be in his police car, chasing him down once more. Neither would forget about the kiss, and it would definitely complicate their relationship a  _ lot  _ more. 

But that didn’t matter, because that was in the future. In the present, in the now, Zenigata was holding Lupin tight to his chest, and Lupin was hugging him right back, and for the moment, time was still and they were safe in each other’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> nothing is more romantic than snuggling up after a nice shower in ur favorite sweater. literally nothing!! i am such a sucker for cozy softness :'-(  
> also im so sorry for the low quality of this fic, im rusty, it's been quite a while since i've written something :-( i hope u managed to enjoy it nonetheless!!


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